


And when you’re broken on the ground

by EvilSlicey



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Budding Love, Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, M/M, Major Character Injury, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 00:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17591420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilSlicey/pseuds/EvilSlicey
Summary: When a heist doesn't go the way Lewis Snart wants it to, Leonard Snart knows he isn't welcome in his home anymore. Where can he go?





	And when you’re broken on the ground

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this idea comes from the Flarrowverse shipyard discord server and the Flash-trash server.  
> I apologize for nothing!
> 
> (Also i have never seen or know anything about Dear Even Hansen i just like the song and felt like the line worked for a title)

As another blow hit his ribs, Leonard Snart curled up tighter to try and protect them even as he gagged and gasped for breath. He heard yelling and a scuffle above him, when a stomp hit his hip making him bite his lip hard enough to fill his mouth with blood. He heard a crash to the side and waited for the next blow.

What came was a rough a hand that was a bit too big to be his father's as he was levered up with an almost savage jerk. Leonard found himself scrambling to get his feet solidly on the ground as he had to resist the urge to fight against the hand. He still couldn’t bring the world around him in focus so all he could to was fight the panic seizing his lungs and brace himself for another blow.

When it didn’t come Leonard took a few deep breaths and willed the world to become sharper on the edges of his vision. He realized he wasn’t being held by Lewis Snart, with his blazing eyes and snarling mouth, the look that had gone more animalistic than human. A look he knew far to well.

He tried to blink and shake his head to clear it, so he could try and understand what was happening in world around him.

The guy holding. His name was… Kevin? Did time for aggravated assault and armed robbery. Has a little girl. No. He has two little girls. Wife found dead while he was in. Recruited for the heist because he was a good wheel man, good muscle and looked like one of the guards. Leonard remembered he liked him because he pointed out his father’s mistakes and talked to him like a human being and not his father’s tool.

The world was becoming sharper around the edges and Leonard realized that the man holding him on his feet was talking. He looked around and almost sighed when he saw Lewis being held against the wall by the two other guys from the job. He didn’t remember their names, never bothered to learn them. They were local bangers with just enough clout to work outside the gangs but low enough that Lewis though he could boss them.

Apparently the ‘pair of brothers’, as he father had called them at his nicest, had more guts than Lewis thought, if they were willing to stand up to an associate of the Santini’s. Even a low one just one step above solider.

“I’m fine.” He drawled lazily as he blinked a few times as he came to realization that he was being talked to.

“You sure?” The man’s voice sounded a bit far away, but already he could feel the world setting down and he nodded his head. And resisted the urge to whimper was he did so as the world blackened a bit around the edges, and he felt bile threaten to creep up his throat.

“Yeah.” He responded with his voice just strong enough to probably be convincing. He shook off the hands holding him up and stumbled out of the warehouse office to the dingy bathroom off to the side.

He locked the door behind him as he heard the voices in the next room raise back up in to another fight, that even included some audible blows. He blocked it out as he turned on the water in the half rusted out sink and looked at his face in the cloudy and stained tin mirror above it. What was in front of him wasn’t new but it wasn’t pretty.

Nothing was broken. He could tell that from experience and few carefully placed touches along the more painful areas. There was a nasty cut on his collar bone where his old ratty shirt had ripped, bad enough he considered he might need some stitches. He lifted up his shirt to examine the purple, blue and black bruises blossoming along his ribs and on the top of his hip bone. If he was to walk around without a shirt they would draw the eye from the scars littering his body in various states of being healed.

His face was covered in blood and bruises as well. His right eye was swelling shut and was covered in bruises that where deepening to a harsher black than most of the others with some spidering red veins through it. His nose was lighter than his eye but the blood running from it would have made a horror movie director ask him to tone it down. There was a cute above his eye and his lip was split, and when he prodded the cut he could also feel where his teeth almost went through when he bit it.

Coupled with the sharp bruises on his neck he looked like he had been jumped by more than one man with alcohol on his breath and anger in his eyes.

Leonard just sighed and stripped off his shirt and got to cleaning himself up. Once the water started running a bit cleaner and his cuts stopped stinging from the crappy hand soap he used, he dug out the first aid kit he stashed in there when they started working out of this warehouse. He pulled out a tube of super glue, some gauze, bandages, tape, antiseptic cream and some cotton balls.

Leonard moved to clean up and bandage up his injuries with a skilled efficiency. It didn’t take long for him look at himself in mirror and see a Band-Aid on his forehead, cotton balls shoved up his nose and an expertly closed and bound bandage on his collarbone. Everything else was on display, but at least the only thing that should bleed any moment now was his lip. It wouldn’t be the first time he swallowed blood and he doubted it would be his last.

He threw back on the wet and bloody shirt in hopes of covering up the injuries even just a tiny bit and unlocked the door to see what fresh hell was waiting for him. He couldn’t live in the bathroom after all. Lewis Snart had made sure to beat that lesson into him early.

In the once abandoned, and still derelict, office Lewis Snart was nowhere to be seen. Instead the men from the crew stood around nursing various injuries and bottles of what had to be lukewarm beer. They looked at him when he entered and one the bangers swore colorfully under his breath.

“Fuck, kid. You should go to the hospital.” His friend suggested as he drained the last of his drink.

“I’m fine. Where’d my old man go?” Leonard asked gruffly as he felt a bit of blood drip once he talked.

“We kicked him out, told him we were done. Took his share of the loot and left.” The talker continued.

“Really? He let you decide that?” That would have been a surprise to him, usually Lewis would spit in their faces and made them leave then and there, if he didn’t execute them for the insolence, or at least cut their share down.

“I didn’t give much choice kid.” Kevin informed him as he pulled out three guns from behind him. Two he recognized, the piece his father let people know he was carrying on the job, and the back up no one but he was supposed to know about, both of which cleaned and maintained by his meticulous hand. The third was an unknown and Leonard could only assume it was Kevin's own piece.

“Lewis Snart isn’t usually scared of gun, not a Glock 17 at least.” Leonard stated, while standing very still and eyeing the guns. His heart rate jumped at the feeling of being out matched and vulnerable.

“My JJ’s fingers are good for more than picking locks.” The talker smirked and chuckled darkly. “While your pops was acting a fool about the haul being short JJ made sure he couldn’t get to crazy. Good thing to when he started beating up on you like that. No telling what he woulda done.”

“I’m more useful to him alive than dead.” Leonard scoffed as he finally loosened up and began to move around, looking for his hiding place where he had stashed an emergency bag of clothing when the heist plans had started up.

“You say that now, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t give two shits not long ago.” Kevin snorted and swung himself up to go grab another beer.

Leonard didn’t reply, just pulled the army issue rucksack he stole long before he even went to juvie from its hiding place and ripped it open to pull out a clean shirt. He clenched it closed quickly and stuffed the shirt in to his belt. He slung the bag over his shoulder and turned back to the crew members watching him.

“What?” He growled as he moved to collect his father’s guns from Kevin, who didn’t even argue. He stuffed them both into his back waistband and collected the thick navy hoodie from the chair he had left it on before the heist.

“Just… you sure you don’t want us to take you to the ER?” Talker asked eyeing his friend who shrugged and moved to collect their own things.

“No, you guys should take your cut and get out of town. Lewis will sober up and remember this eventually. I’m his kid, if you think he was brutal with me think about what he would do to you.” Leonard pushed open the door to the warehouse and ignored the looks the criminals gave each other.

Leonard paused briefly as the sight of the work table his father had used to set up gear and the plans for the heist earlier that evening. Now there stood 4 equal sized stacks cash, proving that Lewis hadn’t been given much of a choice in how he left. Leonard gulped as he touched a stack on the end and shock his head to shake of the nervousness that was building up in his gut.

The take had been low. They had made out with $2.5 million in cash, nothing else. The take was supposed to be closer to $12 million plus a chance to get some additional goodies from the hostages. It was the reason Lewis took a bank job with only two weeks prep time.

Not that Lewis ever took his time in planning.

Leonard opened his rucksack and crammed his part of the take into the top of it. He peeled three smaller stacks of about $5000 each and dropped them on top of each of the other stacks. He knew the other criminals saw him do it, but he wanted to give them some kind of thank you for the help. Even if he couldn’t say it out loud.

“I mean it. Get out of Central while you can. You can’t, find some protection. I suggest the Darbinyan family. They always need new foot soldiers and associates and they hate the Santinis.” Leonard suggested as he headed out of the warehouse. He wanted out of there as soon as possible, never knew if Lewis was going to call in reinforcements.

Leonard jumped the chain link fence separating the warehouse parking lot from the train tracks before he heard the first of the guys cars peel out. He was half a block down the tracks before he stopped to catch his breath. The warehouse was still in view was he slumped against a near by tree and leaned over to empty his stomach.

Lewis was pissed. Pissed enough to lay a finger on him where others could see. Pissed enough to want to kill him.

Leonard stripped off his hoodie and shirt, flinching at the cold air as it hit his damp skin.  He felt his ribs again, winced at the sting of his bruises, feeling the outline of where Lewis boot had hit him. He ripped the guns from his waist band shoved them on top of the cash in his rucksack not wanting to look or feel them again for a while.

Leonard had done everything he was told to do and kept his mouth closed about the no prep time. It hadn’t mattered. Lewis didn’t get the cash he expected, and he took it out on his son. He was probably out drinking until he passed out on the bar, if not home taking it out on Leonard’s step mom too.

Leonard pulled on the clean shirt he had grabbed earlier, replacing his hoodie on top of it, and tossed the bloody shirt over the fence. He took off running along the tracks, rucksack banging against his rib making him whine as he went.

He had no idea where he was going, he just wanted to get as far away from that warehouse as possible.

He couldn’t go home.

As drunk as Lewis was that was asking for a beating bad enough to be put in the ER. Worse, he was sure Lewis wouldn’t stop there.

Leonard may be worth more to Lewis alive than dead, but Lewis wasn’t a man known for making smart financial decisions. He would turn down an easy job if he had to work with someone he hated, he would hire bad choices for a crew because they had the right friends and he would kill Leonard to prove a point.

What that point was didn’t matter.

If he went home, he was as good as dead.

He kept running along the train tracks until he started seeing more active commercial buildings, namely a gas station, and pulled away from the tracks to slip through a hole in the perimeter fence and jog toward the blindingly bright light. He paused when he saw a payphone up front, but then shoved his hands into his pocket and pushed in.

Leonard could feel the shaggy attendant’s eyes follow him as he grabbed some supplies, food he could eat without worrying about his lip bleeding to much or the hurt starting to rise in his jaw, some paper towels, and couple of sugary sodas. He placed the items on the counter and glared at the cashier when he jerked back with a sharp intake of breath.

“Shit kid, what happened to you?” The older man whistled as he took in the swollen features on Leonard’s face.

“Bee sting.” Leonard growled as he dug into his pocket for the cash he kept on him, not wanting to touch any of the heist money just yet.

“Nasty bee sting.” The cashier said softly and rang him up. Leonard just glowered at the man and hand him two wrinkled bills.

“I need a dollar in quarters too.” He informed the man as he counted out his change and Leonard snatched the few singles and small pile of change from the offered hand and snagged the plastic bags to slip out of the store before the man could ask any more questions.

Leonard paused in front of the payphone and looked around, looking for something else, anything else he could do. When no new opportunity revealed itself and the cashier’s eyes seemed to be burning into his skin through the glass windows, he dropped his rucksack and dug through one of the outer pockets. When his fingers touched the crumbled piece of notebook paper he was looking for he could feel his body visibly relax and his heart rate he hadn’t even noticed was racing calm down.

Leonard flattened out the piece of paper, eyeing the phone number written in large rough bubble letters, no name, nothing else.

He could have memorized it. In fact, he had the moment he had gotten it in the mail a year ago when its owner had gotten out of juvie, sent to the address he gave the sender before he had gotten out himself, having served his own time. The other page, with the note and the street address had been destroyed after Leonard had memorized every line and detail. Like how he seemed to purposefully miss spell words, and how he kept it short and sweet.

If Lewis found a phone number that meant nothing. He could say it was a guy offering him a job on another crew. An address Lewis could visit and look into. A personal message could be used against him.

Leonard took a few deep breaths before he dropped two quarters into the payphone and dialed the number, hoping it was still good. The ringing on the other end was hopeful, and when he heard the line connect, he took a deep breath.

“It’s Mick, leave a message.” The out going message on the machine Leonard was only partly surprised to find out Mick had was brief but enough to knock the breath from his lungs. He heard a beep and sighed.

“Hey Mick, its Leon- Snart. From Juvie. I guess you’re asleep or out. I’ll… I’ll call you again later. In the morning.” Leonard spoke quickly, his mouth dry and heart racing again as he did so, knowing that leaving a message meant something more than if he had answered or if he just hung up.

He slammed the receiver into its cradle and fished out his remaining change from the return tray. He leaned against the pay phone for a few seconds, wishing there was someone else he could call.

But Leonard had no one. No one but a three-year-old whose life he wasn’t going to risk by calling or coming home that night. Maybe not even the next or the night afterwards.

He saw the cashier reach for his phone through the window and pushed away from the payphone and recollected his rucksack, the phone number now shoved into his hoodie pocket. He flipped off the busy-body no good snoop cashier and started running down the street.

He kept running until he saw a bus about to pull up to a stop with a couple of tired looking ladies dressed like home health care nurses and one guy wearing the uniform for some restaurant nearby were waiting and stopped to join them in line. His heart was pounding in his ears as he listened the sounds of sirens. He got on, paid his fair and found a seat in the back corner without even a second look from any of the other riders.

Leonard leaned against the glass, watching the other passengers with a dispassionate researcher’s gaze as he rolled over his options.

He couldn’t go to a shelter. All of them had stopped letting in people hours ago, and even if he did want to go to one unless it was one of the ones that catered to younger homeless or families there was no way he could make it out of a shelter with out a few new bruises. Or worse.

He knew a few communal spots where the homeless in Central liked to bed down, even a pseudo village where he could find one of Lewis’ bag ladies who would happily watch over him for a night. They may work as spies and look outs for the crook, but they all liked Leonard and would accept a hundred or even half his food for a night next to one of their fires.

Leonard sighed knowing that it wasn’t an option. If Lewis started looking for him when he sobered up, he would look with them and the few working girls Leonard considered his friends because they would rather go hungry than service Lewis and liked to tell Leonard all sorts of juicy details about people in the life. If they hesitated even a bit Lewis would make their lives hell. None of those women deserved a taste of Lewis boot for Leonard.

He thought of his other options until the bus pulled up to the depot and announced that the last buses of the night where leaving in 10 minutes. He looked at the route map on one of the bus overhangs and felt his eyes go to the stop near Mick’s apartment.

Leonard didn’t let himself think about it. He moved over to the right route’s collection zone and boarded the bus without a second thought when the driver pulled up.

This time instead of watching people and thinking, he refused to let his mind think beyond the watching the stops roll by and the workers who were heading home for the day disembark one by one. When he got to the stop closest to Mick’s place, he all but ran off the bus, nervous that if he let himself think about it, he would chicken out.

He walked the block and half it took to get to the build, hands holding the strap to his rucksack tight against his chest and eyes fritting side to side like he expected to be jumped at any second.

It wasn’t a bad concern, Mick didn’t live in a safe area. But it was in the Santini’s territory and he knew that pick pockets, muggers and bangers looking for an easy roll would be crazy to operate with there. It only small-time crooks around live there, not work there.

Still he only stopped moving when he was standing in front of Mick’s building.

Any other day of week he wouldn’t give it a second look. Classic Central City 30’s brick build. 10 stories. Probably 70 units at most if they where small. 50 or 60 more likely.

Len had been in plenty of buildings just like it that he knew it probably had an old gate elevator and stairs full of needles and lost underwear, mixed with piss and graffiti.

All in all, it shouldn’t have been scary.

But looking at those old windows with the peeling paint and the graffiti decorating the front façade he felt like he was going to puke again. All he had to do was open the door. He knew he could get in without any help, but he couldn’t move. He could wait by Mick’s front door, but he couldn’t move.

Leonard swallowed the bile that threaten climb up his throat and pulled his eyes from the tempting trap. He looked around the street and saw the opening to a near by park. He didn’t even stop to reconsider his options, he just pulled away from the building and walked slowly to the park.

It didn’t take him long to find a bench just far enough off the main drag that the first patrolman who walked through the park wouldn't see him but not so far as that if he needed to book-it he had to run far to get to the exit. He wrapped himself around his rucksack, curled up into as tight as ball as he could and pulled his hood over his face as far down as it would go.

He tried to fight off the cold by covering as much as skin as possible and forced himself to breath in a steady manner, falling sleep by force of will only.

He didn’t know how long he slept. He knew he did because the temperature had dropped enough to make him think that a frost may come in before long. He rolled his neck, clamping his lips closed when the stiffness that had crawled up his neck sent a bite of pain through him, and slowly moved to look around him.

He knew he didn’t wake up for no reason, not even the cold could wake him like that, and he was determined to see what woke him.

He blinked and rubbed his one good eye when he saw a familiar, if a bit thicker and taller, form of a man sitting on the ground in front of his bench. The close-cropped hair emphasized the face Leonard got use to seeing every day for a year in juvie, just a bit thinner and rougher with a need to shave.

“Mick?” He asked with a winch when he heard how gravelly his voice sounded. He sat up a bit more, feeling his bruises pull and ache along his bones. Mick’s eyes flicked over him, full of a bit of amusement and concern that Leonard was surprised to see and made him feel relaxed.

“You know, I got this place. Pretty nice. Old lady who owns the place says I remind her of her grandson, I fix some stuff for her, she makes me roast and potatoes. Even got a bed.”

“I saw your building. It looked all right.” Leonard cautiously replied, pulling his rucksack into his lap.

“Its warm too. First thing I fixed when I moved in was the boiler.”

“I didn’t know you were so handy.”

“Len, why are you on a park bench?”

Leonard blushed hearing Mick’s nickname for him from juvie. It reminded him of days spent in forced education classes and working in the repair shop. Eating meals side by side, sleeping with Mick below him on the bottom bunk. Mick looking out for him.

“Seemed as good as place as any to sleep.” Leonard drawled defiantly.

“Really?” Mick moved suddenly, startling him so much he almost dropped his rucksack as he threw himself against the back of the bench and bit his lip to stop himself from crying out when his bruises complained about his mistreatment of himself. Blood refill his mouth and he could only swallow it as Mick’s hands moved to gently examine the lines of his face.

“Your old man?” He asked softly, and when Leonard nodded, he pulled back and looked over the rest of him. “He have a reason or just drunk?”

“Take wasn’t what he was hoping, and he was drunk.” Leonard admitted knowing that Mick would understand.

“And that was your fault? Nah I know you were just closest. Your ma’d been there she would be the one looking like a prize fighter.”

“Step-mother.” Leonard corrected tiredly.

“Don’t matter who is the one getting beat, Len, he’s still beating someone who wont or can’t fight back. Coward.” Mick growled.

“Mick.” Leonard warned, he didn’t want to be rescued. He could handle himself.

“Get your bag.”

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and haul to my place and toss you in the shower still dressed.” Mick glowered.

Leonard blushed and slipped up on to his feet, throwing his bag over his shoulder and audibly groaning under the weight and at the feeling of his abused muscles moving beneath his skin. Mick grabbed his bag, rough but still making sure not to jar him too much and slung it over his shoulder and grabbed his arm to direct him to the apartment he had been too nervous to enter earlier.

Mick called the elevator and pulled Leonard in, forcing him to practically stand on his feet as the car labored up. Leonard felt himself wanting to lean into his warmth and yawning with his exhaustion and fought hard to resist the urge.  It was late and he had a long day, night, and his body was healing. A park bench wasn’t perfect, but he could have used 30 more minutes on it.

He’s exhaustion made the trip from the elevator to the door pass in a blink of an eye, and he found himself blinking at the room he found himself in. The beat-up sofa, the rickety table and mismatched chair, a coffee table made out of milk crates, a TV unit that looked like it was worth more than any furniture he would see there, and two worn and comfortable looking leather arm chairs. It was slightly nicer than some apartments belonging to criminals he had been in, but some how it seemed right for Mick.

Even the tapestry blanket of the mostly naked biker chick hanging over the window.

Mick tossed the rucksack into a room off the main room and pulled him towards another room that revealed to be a bathroom that Leonard had the desire to scrub for a few hours. He turned on the shower and turned to Leonard expectedly.

“What?” The beat-up boy grumbled at the sudden attention.

“Strip. You’re half frozen.” Mick barked. Leonard blushed and shivered at the sudden attention to his general wellbeing. He was cold but it wasn’t something he was new to. He could use a shower but getting naked in front of Mick, that was something else.

“Fuck off.” Leonard growled and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“I’m giving you one choice. You strip and get into the shower, or I toss you in clothing and all.” Mick loomed over him and Leonard felt his eyes bore holes into him. Leonard mulled over his options and sighed. He unzipped his hoodie and tossed it aside, making Mick step back.

Leonard ignored the audible in take of breath from the other man when he pulled off his shirt and added it to the pile he started and moved to undo his shoes. When he swayed bending over, a bit dizzier than he expected, Mick gently pushed him to sit on the toilet.

Leonard fought down the urge to argue as Mick undid his shoelaces and tugged them off his feet followed by his socks. He didn’t argue when those big hands moved to undo his fly and tugged his jeans off his hips.

“You wanna keep your boxers?” Mick asked softly, looking up at him from his place kneeling on the floor, a patient look on his face. Leonard shock his head, figuring he might as well bite the bullet and let Mick see all the damage now. Besides wet underwear sucks.

He wiggled his boxers off himself and kicked them into his pile, leaning forward to use Mick to help him on to his feet. Mick held him up, his fingers poking and prodding at a few of his bruises looking like he wanted to make sure there were no breaks as well. Leonard looked down and looked at the full force of his bruises for the first time since he did his first aid.

They were beginning to fade a bit along the edges the black and purple looking sickly against his pale skin, but the bruise on his hip was bigger and darker than he thought. The ones on his ribs were scary looking but survivable. The white and red of the gauze on his collar bone was a bit odd looking next to his scarred flesh and bruises.

“You bandage this yourself?” Mick asked, fingering the ends of the makeshift bandage. Leonard nodded and blinked when he saw Mick pull back the bandage and check his makeshift sutures.

“Had practice, if those other scars are to go by.” Mick said clinically poking along the part still oozing blood slowly. “Once you’re clean and warm I got some fresh shit under the sink.”

Leonard nodded and moved to climb under the spray that was now filling the room with steam. He swayed back when he lost his balance lifting his leg to climb over the edge of the tub. Mick caught him and Leonard gulped at the comfort of the warm body.

“I think I might need some help.” Leonard hated himself for admitting he needed help. He could take care of himself and would never ask for help even if he did need it. Mick was different though, Leonard knew he wouldn't judge him for it.

Mick nodded and sat Leonard down on the seat again, moving to pull off his own ratty t-shirt and jeans quickly, leaving his boxers on. Leonard found himself staring at the defined muscles and burn scars pocketing his body. Mick had definitely grew up since their days in the juvie shower and he wasn't a small guy back then. Now he looked like he could be a god in training or a model.

Mick lifted Leonard over the edge of the tub and held him up as the spray beat down on him. Leonard was surprised when Mick started lathering up his body and used a warn wash cloth to scrub his body. He let Mick do what he needed to do to clean his body, even bending his head to let Mick lather some soap into his hair and wash out some of the blood that had collected there form the cut on his forehead.

Leonard hated how hot the water was, feeling like it was scolding and burning his body not cleaning it. Mick though, Mick he liked. He liked the hands moving over his body to gently cleaning him, the breath on his neck as he held him up and moved him for side to side to get to places to scrub, the chest he leaned against as he let the water rinse off the soap from his body. Before long Leonard found himself letting the comfort over take him and closing his eyes to doze on his feet.

The shower was over faster than he expected, and Leonard soon found himself being lifted out of the tub, wrapped in a threadbare towel and carried bridal style out of the bathroom and into the only room he hadn’t seen yet. He was laid on a large and oddly comfortable bed, a pillow shoved under his head and blanket laid and tucked over him creating a warm cocoon.

“What about my clothes?” Leonard groaned under the covers as Mick made sure he couldn’t move to much on the bed.

“I’ll add them to mine, need to hit the ‘mat soon anyways.” Mick gruffly replied before he pushed off the bed to grab some supplies.

Leonard dozed on and off as he watched Mick leave and return to with a plastic box filled with bandages, gauze and ointment. Mick gently cleaned and covered of the cuts he could reach, even placing a butterfly bandage on his split lip. He watched with a smile as Mick stopped to strip off his wet boxers and pulled a fresh pair and a large shirt from his older than both of them combined chest of drawers. Leonard even lifted his arm and let Mick dress him in the shirt, to lay back down while Mick was stopped long enough to pull his underwear on before joining him under the covers.

“Your eyes looked ok.” Mick mumbled as he pulled Leonard close to his body.

“My eyes?” Leonard sighed as he cuddled closer to the comforting warmth.

“Means you don’t have a concussion. Ok for you to sleep. We can talk tomorrow.” Mick yawned and buried his face into Leonard’s neck.

“I brought food with me. You don’t need to worry about me. I got money, I might be able to find my own place”

“I’m feeding you something better than pudding and rice crispy treats, Len. And your staying here. Indefinitely.”

“You only have one bed.” Leonard blushed as his eyes finally shut and he felt sleep edging into his consciousness.

“We can share.”

“I like you Mick.” Leonard whispered under his breath as he finally felt his last ties to reality slip away.

“Good, makes everything easier.” Mick chuckled and kissed the top of Leonard’s head as he fell asleep.

Leonard Snart couldn’t go to the home he had with Lewis Snart, but that wasn’t the only home he had if the comforting warm body underneath him was to go by. Mick had not reason to like him, or want him in his life, or clean and take care of him. Mick wanted him anyways.

Now all Leonard had to worry about was Lisa, who still had to live with Lewis while Leonard was free.


End file.
